


The Wrong Side of the Bed

by wheel_pen



Series: Bedeviled [7]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 02:24:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8353159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: Charles is brilliant, kind-hearted, energetic, creative, upbeat, outgoing… and sometimes he’s completely irrational, irritating, and obnoxious, and drives Erik crazy. This might be one of those latter times.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

 

[post-marriage]

Erik loved Charles so much it hurt him to think about sometimes, like a hand squeezing his heart and lungs in a vise. Yet this somehow did not prevent Erik from fantasizing about squeezing other things, like Charles’s throat, when he was being pointlessly obnoxious.

“I’m just really upset, Erik—“ Charles was telling him, all vague and useless.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Erik asked instead. Charles had started to put on his school uniform, but failed to complete the task. “Go finish getting dressed.”

“You’re not _listening_ to me, Erik!” Charles insisted, a terrible insult these days.

Erik was whirling around the kitchen trying to eat a healthy breakfast, which he could do perfectly well at the same time as Charles spoke. “I have been listening to you all morning, Schatzi,” he claimed, which Charles rudely rolled his eyes at. “Ever since you woke up in a bad mood. Did I do something wrong in a dream again? I can apologize if that will make you happy, but it’s ridiculous.”

This comment seemed, from Charles’s reaction, neither helpful nor accurate. “You’re just so _busy_ all the time, Erik, and you never listen to me—“ Charles complained.

Erik ate some more cereal, leaning against the counter and trying not to drip on his suit. “I am listening. Speak.”

“You’re _not_ listening,” Charles accused, when he _should_ have been using the opportunity Erik gave him. “You’re thinking about work and how much I’m wasting your time!”

“This is true,” Erik agreed, because it was, but maybe he should have kept that thought to himself, as Charles huffed and scoffed and spun around like he might leave the room. Hopefully to finish getting dressed.

“You never take me seriously, Erik!” Charles insisted. “You always treat me like I’m a child—“

“Oh, hardly,” Erik interrupted, thinking of what they’d done last night, when Charles was in a much better mood.

Charles rolled his eyes again. “About everything serious!” he clarified, which actually clarified nothing.

He reminded Erik of a small, irrational animal yapping at cars, which gave him another brilliant idea. “Do you think you’re going into heat again?” Erik asked. “It’s not time yet, but you’ve been off before—“

“For the love of G-d, Erik!” Charles responded vehemently. “Is that honestly the level you’re going to sink to? Blaming my hormones?”

There was an obvious wrong answer here. “I’m not _blaming_ anything,” Erik insisted, trying not to get defensive. “I am asking a medical question, which has a rather major effect on my life—“

“Oh, it’s just all about _you_ , isn’t it?” Charles thundered acidly. “If you could try thinking about me _for once in your life_ —“

That was it. Erik was not going to be accused of not thinking about Charles, when he had spent almost half his life doing exactly that. Which Charles well knew, so he was clearly not thinking straight.

Definitively, Erik put down his bowl. “Oh, getting serious now!” Charles observed sarcastically, as Erik pulled out his phone. “Are you finally going to—“

Erik held up a finger to silence Charles as he waited for his call to be answered; the teen sputtered with indignation, but quietly. “Hello, this is Erik Lehnsherr,” he announced. “My Omega, Charles Xavier, will be a little late today.”

Charles’s eyes widened. “Is that my school?” he hissed at Erik, who was trying to concentrate. The rules for absences were not uppermost in Erik’s mind and he wasn’t sure what Charles would be penalized for.

“He’s not feeling well right now,” he responded, in reply to further query. “But I think it’s just allergies, he’ll be fine once the Benadryl kicks in. He should be there around nine. Yes, thank you.” He hung up.

Charles was grinning. “You’re such a brilliant liar, Erik!” he judged with delight.

“I know. Scary, isn’t it?” Erik was already making another call and shushed Charles from speaking further. “Hey Darla, I’m running late today. I’ll be there around nine-fifteen. Will the world come to an end? Great, see you later.”

Erik hung up for the second time and deliberately put his phone aside. “You now have approximately forty-five minutes to explain your problem to me, before we have to finish up and leave.” Naturally, they lived closer to Charles’s school than to Erik’s office. “So go,” Erik prompted expectantly, fixing Charles with a gaze that older Alphas quailed before.

Instead Charles threw his arms around Erik. “You’re being late to work for me!” he cooed. “You’re never late to work!”

Erik hugged him back, enjoying his warmth, the scent of his soap. “I think about you all the time, Charles,” he stated calmly, hoping that somehow his gentle but protective touch could convey this. “I think _about_ you, and I think _of_ you—“ There was a subtle difference.

“I know,” Charles assured him, sniffling a bit. “I’m so sorry I said those things, Erik, I didn’t mean them at all.”

“Which ones, specifically?” asked Erik, who didn’t like vague apologies.

Charles, knowing this, chuckled a little and made himself more comfortable in Erik’s arms. “I’m sorry I said you don’t think about me,” he began, “and that you make things all about you, because of course you don’t, Erik! You’re very selfless. I was just feeling mean when I said that, and I’m sorry.”

This would have been a very satisfactory apology, except for—“What about how I don’t take you seriously,” Erik prompted, “and that I’m too busy?” He was not looking for Charles to list all his sins and beg for forgiveness; but if there was a kernel of truth to what Charles had blurted out, Erik wanted to know about it.

“Oh, well,” Charles hedged, not quite dismissing the comments. “I exaggerated there.”

“I’m merely busy, not _too_ busy?” Erik suggested deprecatingly. His father had always been _too_ busy; Erik did not want to be like him in that regard, but it was an easy pattern to fall into, when he was following in his father’s footsteps in so many other ways.

Charles leaned back a little, still holding onto Erik. “Well, you know, Erik, Hank and I invented a home gene sequencer for the science fair, and you haven’t even come to see it!” This was also an exaggeration, of the scope of Charles’s project, this time for humorous effect. “We could win a Nobel Prize! And I’ll be there in Stockholm saying, ‘This is for Erik, who never took my project seriously…’”

A number of responses went through Erik’s mind, which were truthful but probably, he decided, not very helpful. Then he tried to do what his mother suggested and put himself in Charles’s shoes. Only Erik had never wanted his father to come to school and see his projects, because that was too much pressure, and he was always critical of them. Except Charles _did_ want Erik to come, so that must mean Erik _didn’t_ pressure or criticize too much—

“Erik?” Charles prompted, uncertain about his silence.

“I think you’re brilliant, Charles,” Erik told him suddenly. Maybe he hadn’t made this clear. “It astounds me how bright you are. You were always clever but to be honest I was afraid you wouldn’t apply it to anything productive, given how obnoxious you were as a child.” Charles’s expression, which had begun as a dazzling grin, faded to a look of bemusement by this point, but Erik pressed on. “I thought I oughtn’t draw attention to it, because to me it seems so obvious, and I wouldn’t want you to become arrogant about it. Aren’t you at the top of your class?”

“Well… yeah,” Charles admitted modestly. Despite his late start in the school. Impulsively he hugged Erik again. “I didn’t think you noticed!”

“Charles, how could I not _notice_?” Erik replied. “You pick up things faster than half my employees. And I check your grades online every week.”

“You do?” Charles asked, in surprise and delight.

“Yes. You got a 100 on your Latin test last week,” Erik offered, by way of proof.

Charles made a face at him, though. “I _told_ you about that,” he claimed, but humorously.

“Well, _noticing_ is not the problem,” Erik concluded, ruthlessly self-assessing. “Apparently communicating is the problem. Darla said something about that the other day,” he added with a frown, seeing the pieces start to click together. “She said I complained when something went wrong but didn’t praise when it went right.” Charles nodded, whether in agreement or just to show he was paying attention Erik wasn’t sure. “I said, it’s your job to get things right, why should I praise you for doing your job?”

Charles winced. “Oh, Erik, you didn’t!”

“Well, we were speaking about a hypothetical third person, not Darla,” Erik clarified. “But see, you knew immediately why that was wrong. That’s very clever. Darla and I are _still_ going over it.” He refocused on Charles. “Would you like me to indicate I’ve noticed your intelligence more?”

“Yes!” Charles responded enthusiastically, giving him a hug for reinforcement. “And my maturity. Like how I clean up the bathroom more!”

“The floor has been significantly less of a watery death trap lately,” Erik acknowledged. “And, there have been more dishes in the sink, so either you’re eating more or you’re picking up your dishes more often.”

Charles beamed at him, in a way that was slightly patronizing, which was an odd turn for the conversation to have taken. “Exactly, Erik! It’s okay to tell me those things, I won’t start boasting about them to the other kids. ‘Bet you slobs _never_ pick up your own dishes!’” he laughed.

Erik tried to remember if there was anything else they needed to cover. Well, only the obvious. “Were any of these things what you were upset about earlier?” He was hoping the answer was yes.

Charles blinked, as though he’d forgotten the issue that started the whole conversation. “No!” he judged suddenly, and Erik tried not to sigh. “In my dream last night—no, this was something you really did,” he insisted when Erik lost his decorum and rolled his eyes. “But it was years ago, and I remembered it because it was in my dream last night, and now I’m mad about it again.”

Erik took a breath, but found he had run out of insightful patience for the day. “You realize that does not impress me with your intelligence _or_ your maturity,” he pointed out.

Charles grinned. “I know! But in a dream, things feel real, it’s like they really happened! That’s a scientific fact. Hank and I are going to study brain activity during dreams for our psychology project next semester,” he added pointedly.

Erik made a mental note to voice his interest in this more. Charles didn’t usually require prompting to talk about something, was the thing. “Are you going to build an MRI machine out of kitchen appliances?” he asked dryly.

“Maybe!” Charles agreed giddily. “Anyway, come to my room and I’ll remind you what I’m mad about, it requires visual aids.”

“Oh G-d,” Erik sighed, nevertheless trailing along behind Charles hand in hand. “You have thirty minutes,” he reminded him. “And don’t forget to tell the right story at school.”

“I know! I’m so impressed with how adeptly you lied, Erik,” Charles said, perhaps modeling the praise he hoped to receive more of. “A total falsehood just rolled off your tongue with no preparation! Do you do that often?”

“All the time,” Erik claimed, as archly as Charles had complimented him. He had a feeling he was going to need that skill to survive the rest of their conversation.


End file.
